Runaway
by kaileytmarie
Summary: Sherman has a way of making mistakes. He always seems to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But does Mr. Peabody really not want him around anymore? Maybe his dad would be better off without him. Story request for Crystal Persian
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, my frandz! Today's little story is all thanks to FanFiction's own Crystal Persian! The idea was all hers'! I just added in a few words. ;) So thank her for her brain and be expecting more to this story soon.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing... Like. Really. I don't. Not even the idea. I'm cool like that.**

* * *

Mr. Peabody didn't get angry at others often, but if he did, he was quick to get over it. He had always told Sherman that anger toward people was a futile emotion. It did no good for one's self and no harm to one's enemy. It simply kept unnecessary fires ablaze until, eventually, a good heart was turned to ash.

Such was the example of the grouch downstairs.

Sherman never understood how one man could be so angry at someone who had never done anything to him.

Mr. Peabody had instructed Sherman to greet the man kindly whenever he saw him, but to try to avoid engaging in conversation.

The man clearly made Mr. Peabody as uncomfortable as he did Sherman. Even now the boy could tell by the way Mr. Peabody's ears perked forward, just barely, that he was growing frustrated by their neighbor's grumbling.

"Yes, Mr. Sandlin, I can see how you might get that impression, but I assure you it was a simple mistake. No harm done."

Mr. Peabody was always polite, always kind, but even his most pleasant tone had a way of making Sherman squirm.

No one else ever noticed the signs. No one else saw the forward stance, the fixed gaze, the high shoulders as anything more than a show of confidence. But Sherman knew what it really meant.

Mr. Peabody might look completely calm to any other person on the planet, but to a boy who had been raised by a dog, these were all signs of a steadily growing aggravation which, if not kept in check, would soon boil into defensive anger.

Sherman knew very well that Mr. Peabody was protective of him. He just hoped Mr. Sandlin wouldn't push his dad too far.

"No harm?" cried the old man. "That little brat of yours could have broken my neck!" Mr. Sandlin crossed the room and dropped to the sofa, snorting angrily.

Mr. Peabody looked at Sherman and made a shooing motion with his hand.

The seven year old retreated to his room and shut his door just in time to muffle the string of curse words flying from their neighbor's mouth.

"It was just an accident," Sherman muttered.

xXxXx

It had been an hour and twenty-seven minutes and Sherman could still hear the sounds of rage tempered by Mr. Peabody's ever calm voice. Mr. Sandlin hadn't left yet and Sherman was bored out of his mind.

Couldn't Mr. Peabody just threaten to call in a favor from the president or something and force the man to leave?

Mr. Sandlin yelled loud enough for Sherman to make out a few inappropriate words.

He shuddered.

Rolling off his bed, Sherman noticed that Mr. Peabody had left the phone on his desk. The red head picked it up and dialed a number.

"Hey, Sherman," sang the sweet voice after a few rings.

"Hi, Penny."

"Something wrong? You sound sad."

Sherman glanced over his shoulder at the door. He could just barely hear the sound of the elevator doors sealing. A muffled snarl echoed into his room. "I messed up... Again."

Sherman imagined the blond rolling her eyes. He smiled. "Is it that stupid neighbor of yours again?"

"Don't call him stupid, Penny. Mr. Peabody says that just because you don't like someone, doesn't mean you shouldn't show them respect." Another growl echoed through the hall.

"So? You can respect someone to their face and say what you want behind their back." She sounded smug.

"I don't think Mr. Peabody would agree with that. He never talks bad about anyone. He says that if you can't say it to a person's face, you have no business saying it at all." A door slammed.

"Whatever." A pause. "So what did you do to make him mad this time?"

"Well-"

"SHERMAN!"

"Hang on, Penny." Sherman placed the phone on his desk and walked to the door. He opened it, poked his head out. "Yes, Mr. Peabody?"

"HAVE YOU SEEN MY CHEW TOY?"

Sherman winced. Mr. Peabody was really, really mad if he was looking for his chew toy. "Did you check under the blue, striped towel in the bathroom?"

He could hear the shuffling of paw pads across the wood flooring. A distant thud of a door followed by a few squeaks told him it was safe to return to his room.

Sherman crossed the room, picked the phone back up and moved to sit on his bed. "Okay, I'm back."

"So?"

Sherman thought back over the last few hours, still trying to understand what it was that had upset Mr. Sandlin so much. "Well, Mr. Peabody and I went by the store after our trip to Edo, Japan this morning and I was hungry because I didn't want to eat sushi and Mr. Peabody wouldn't let me have any chips. So anyway, I asked him what I _could_ eat and he said I could have some vegetables, because I needed something nutritious, but I didn't want a salad!"

"Wait! You were at the store and hungry and the only thing Mr. Peabody would get you was a salad?" Penny sounded annoyed at the revelation. "Seriously?"

Sherman shrugged, though he knew his friend couldn't see him. "He says that junk food is diabetes, kidney failure and heart disease waiting to happen. But anyway, I asked him if I could have a pickle—I don't really like pickles all that much, but they're better that starving—and he said he liked pickles so we bought a jar.

"Then, we went by the theater to see if there were any good movies that we could see later and there was this one about spider that eat people! But Mr. Peabody said I wasn't old enough to see it."

Penny spoke up. "My parents never let me see any of the movies I want to see!"

Sherman could tell she was mad about that.

"So what happened next?"

"Okay," Sherman paused when he heard pots clattering on the floor. He kept his voice quiet. "So, we were on our way back home, but first we were dropping off a cake we got for one of the old ladies on the floor underneath us because it's her birthday today, and I was carrying the pickles and Mr. Sandlin's cat ran out in front of me and tripped me! I fell and threw the pickle jar on the floor and it smashed open!"

"Uh-oh!"

"Yeah! Then Mr. Sandlin came out to get his cat and he slipped in the juice and started yelling and, and, and..." Sherman took a breath. "And then I said I was sorry and he kept yelling. Mr. Peabody told me to go home and get cleaned up, but Mr. Sandlin followed me to the elevator."

"And Mr. Peabody followed Mr. Sandlin?" Penny guessed.

"Yeah." Sherman tried to ignore the ruckus coming from the kitchen. "He stayed here for almost an hour and a half, yelling at Mr. Peabody."

_BOOM!_

"Now Mr. Peabody's a little tense."

Penny giggled. "You should scratch him behind his ear again. Maybe then Mr. Peabody would calm down."

The doorknob clicked and Sherman watched his father enter the room. "Sherman, I- Who are you talking to?"

Sherman smiled sheepishly at the Beagle. "Just Penny, Mr. Peabody."

"Oh."

A few awkward moments passed. Penny was asking what was going on, but Sherman ignored her. "Did you need me to do something, Mr. Peabody?" he asked after what seemed like hours.

"Oh, uh, yes..." Peabody smiled tiredly. "Would you like to invite the Petersons over for dinner?" He could hear Penny squeal excitedly on the other end of the line. "But no WABAC," he stated firmly, making sure his voice was loud enough to be heard by the child.

xXxXx

Sherman was playing French Revolution in his room when he felt his stomach beginning to rumble. He glanced at the clock, saw there were still a few more hours left until his friend would be coming over. Maybe he could get a snack.

Sherman crept out of his room, down the hall, poked his head from behind the wall and surveyed the space. Mr. Peabody was nowhere in sight. "He must be in his office," Sherman whispered to himself.

Taking a few more tentative steps, the seven year old listened for anything that might speak of his father's presence. Nothing. He dashed for the kitchen.

Pushing the heavy door open, Sherman peeked inside the room. Still no one. He sneaked to the pantry housing his "special" snacks. He knew they weren't for him to have just whenever, but for special occasions, but he still really wanted some chips.

He had just barely opened the door when he heard a faint tapping noise. Sherman quickly jumped inside the pantry and pulled the door back until it was almost shut. He peaked through the crack, watching Mr. Peabody walk to the fridge, paw/hands curling into fists as he mumbled to himself.

Sherman held his breath, not wanting to be caught taking food he knew he shouldn't be eating, and listened.

"What am I going to do about him?" Mr. Peabody brooded. "He is always complicating things." He pulled out a bottled of Vitamin Water, twisted the cap off. "Anytime life is going swimmingly he has to _be there _to mess something up." He took a long drink, smacked once out of enjoyment. He did love his Vitamin Water. "One day, Peabody, you will wake up and find that he is no longer a part of your life." He walked back to the door, drink in hand. "And I can't say I'll miss him when he does."

Peabody paused at the door. "Ugh. I can still smell his pickle soaked shirt."

Sherman waited a few more seconds before carefully sneaking back to his room. He sat on his bed, looking at the pickle juice stains on his shirt.

He forgot he was hungry.

* * *

**If you like it, you should put a ring on it. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**I am so sorry it's been so long since I updated this. My life has been so busy and so crazy and so overwhelming. This past week has been filled with all kinds of crazy, little things that ate my life (And a Matthew West concert I got to go to for free since I was a volunteer) and the weekend before that was a benefit my church put together for some friends who had to pay for cancer surgery and didn't have insurance. We made over $4000! It was amazing! (You have to understand that my church averages about 60 on a Sunday morning, so that was a pretty big deal.) But now, hopefully, life will calm down enough for me to breathe a little. So... Here's chapter 2 of Runaway. Hope you like it.**

* * *

Sherman moved his food around on his plate. He had lost his appetite hours ago and had yet to get it back. He payed little attention to the conversation going on. Only enough to know when the attention shifted to him, at which point he would "happily" stick a forkful of vegetables in his mouth.

He hoped that no one would notice his unusual mood. Of course, by the side-glances he was receiving, he guessed Mr. Peabody already knew something was different.

Time passed slowly, way too slowly for Sherman, as the adults chatted about things the children didn't understand, taking their time eating the exquisite meal before them. Finally, they were ready to move on to the den while the children retreated to Sherman's room.

"What's that smell?" Penny asked immediately upon entering the room. She pinched her nose shut in disgust.

Sherman sighed, dropping his shoulders. "Please tell me it's not a pickle smell."

Penny shook her head. "No! It smells like rotten eggs."

The red head's eyes brightened. "Oh! That's my new sulfur samples. I spilled some water on them when I was taking care of my cacti." His mood sunk again.

"What's wrong, Sherman?"

Sherman walked to his bed and plopped down. "Penny? Do you ever think maybe your parents don't..." he didn't want to say it. "Like you that much?"

The blonde huffed, crossing her arms. A deep scowl settled on her face. "Have you seen how many times my dad takes a stupid phone call while I'm talking to him?" she asked angrily. "And my mom is always sending to my room to 'play' while she 'takes care of business' on the computer." She frowned, a hurt look in her eyes. "I'm not dumb. I know she's just playing games on her Facebook and looking at stuff on Pinterest."

Sherman studied the floor. "Mr. Peabody doesn't want me anymore," he stated plainly.

Penny seemed taken aback. She stared at her friend for a few seconds in disbelief. "Why would you say that, Sherman?"

"Because it's true." His cheeks felt hot. "He said so."

"But that can't be true! Sherman, Mr. Peabody loves you! I mean, he bit Ms. Grunion for you!"

Tears were beginning to build in the little boy's eyes. He tried to blink them away. "I heard him, Penny!"

Penny crossed her arms defiantly. "Whatever, Sherman. You probably just misunderstood."

Sherman stood, eyes flaring momentarily. "I know what I heard."

Sighing, Penny chose to change the subject. "So, about your stupid neighbor... He's always complaining about you even though you never do anything wrong, right?"

Sherman nodded apprehensively.

She smiled slyly. "Well, I say we give him something to complain about."

Sherman didn't like where this was going.

* * *

"Penny, I really think we should go back to my room now." Sherman looked around the hall nervously. He really didn't want to be there.

"Oh, relax, Sherman. It's just a little prank." She reached up to the doorbell and pressed the button. "Run!" she whispered harshly. Only then did she realize that, being in a hall, there was nowhere to run to. "Uh-oh."

Sherman shot her a mild glare.

"Whadaya want?"

The children froze, turned slowly, lifted their gaze to meet the drooping, grey eyes of Mr. Sandlin.

"Uh, um. N-nothing, Mr. Sandlin, sir," Sherman stuttered. "We were just-"

"Nothin'?" the man growled. His forehead was creased with deep wrinkles which dipped into an angry scowl that nearly covered his eyes. "Ya think yer gonna play a prank on me, huh?" He caught them by the arms before they could run. "Ya little punks ain't goin' nowhere!"

"Ouch!" Penny shrieked. "Let go of me!"

Sherman squirmed in the tight grip. Mr. Sandlin was stronger than he had expected. "Mr. Peabody!" he yelped. "Mr. Peabody, help!"

The old man rolled his eyes, growling. "Quit yer yappin', kid!" He moved Sherman's arm to his other hand, wrapping his long fingers around both kid's wrists, as he reached into his pocket for his cell phone and dialed a number.

A couple moments of enraged complaining later he had released them. A cruel smile twisted his thin lips. "Ya better get back home, ya little brats."

Penny stuck her tongue out and stomped on the man's foot before grabbing Sherman's hand and making a mad dash for the elevator.

"Run to yer daddy, ya little brat! He deserves ta have his life messed up by ya! Go on! Get out o' here!"

Sherman darted through the elevator doors, using the back wall to stop his momentum, and slumped to the floor as the small room began to move.

They panted heavily, trying to calm their nerves. Sherman's hands were shaking.

"I thought he was going to kill us or something," Penny said, voice trembling.

Sherman nodded. "I told you we shouldn't have done that."

_DING._

Penny looked at the floor number. "Oops. I pressed the wrong button." The doors opened, closed. She selected the top level. "When my dad finds out about that guy grabbing us, he's going to sue him for all he's got!"

Sherman sighed. "What if he's right? What if all I've ever done is mess up Mr. Peabody's life?"

"Don't say that, Sherman. Mr. Peabody loves you."

The elevator doors opened again. This time to three sets of angry scowls.

"Sherman. Penny." Mr. Peabody's voice was even, but firm. His eyebrows were drawn down and he was frowning disapprovingly. "I assume the two of you have a reasonable explanation as to why I received a call from our neighbor, Mr. Sandlin, only moments before finding you both inside the elevator." He drilled Sherman with a stare. "Surely the story I have been told of your choosing to not only hoax Mr. Sandlin, but to do so in a highly unsophisticated way is a mere misunderstanding."

Silence.

"Well," Penny started, but was quickly interrupted.

"Penny Peterson, what on earth do you think you are doing leaving this penthouse without permission?" Paul asked angrily. "And pulling pranks on old men? Your mother and I have taught you better than that!"

"But-"

"No buts, young lady," Patty snapped. "You know better than this."

Mr. Peabody pulled Sherman to the side to talk to him privately while Penny's parents continued their scolding. "Honestly, Sherman, what were you thinking?" he said rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Peabody," Sherman whispered back. "I was trying to tell Penny not to do it, but she… I…"

Mr. Peabody shook his head. "Sherman, you cannot blame Penny for this. You had the choice of whether or not to follow her and you chose to participate in what you knew to be completely unnecessary provocation of Mr. Sandlin's wrath. I just want to know why. Until recently, you've never been so easily swayed into performing such acts." He lowered his voice, though he knew the Petersons could not hear him over their own ranting. "Is Penny having a… negative effect on you?" he asked with a wince.

"No! No, Mr. Peabody, no."

He searched Sherman's eyes. Sighed.

"Paul. Patty," Mr. Peabody interrupted. "Perhaps the children should return to Sherman's room while we get things sorted with Mr. Sandlin."

Reluctantly, they agreed.

* * *

Twenty-three minutes later Penny hadn't stopped complaining, though Sherman really wasn't that interested in anything his friend was saying. He was waiting to hear the click and slide of the elevator doors.

"Penny?"

The blond stopped mid-sentence and looked at him.

"I think we need to apologize. We shouldn't have sneaked out or tried to prank Mr. Sandlin."

"What?" Her cheeks turned pink. "He's a mean, old man who doesn't care about anyone but himself! He deserves to be taught a lesson!"

Sherman heard his father's voice echoing in his head. He needed to make the hard choice and do the right thing. "I'm going to apologize, Penny. You don't have to come with me." He heard the doors sliding open.

Penny stared at him defiantly for another few seconds.

Her shoulders dropped.

"I guess you're right."

The red head's eyes brightened. Maybe he could get all of this worked out after all.

The seven year olds crept out of Sherman's room and down the hall. They wanted to just walk in the living room and get the apology over with, but they were nervous and ashamed of their actions, so they paused, just out of their parents' sight, to ready themselves. Only they didn't get the chance to do so.

"No, I'm telling you, Peabody, you really don't have it that bad," Mr. Peterson was saying. "If you only knew what it was like to spend a week with her, let alone a lifetime! She complains all the time. She's always getting into trouble. She argues, debates, squabbles! Honestly, there are days when I'm embarrassed to admit I'm related to her."

"Now, Paul," Patty scolded. "You shouldn't say things like that." A pause. "Even if they are true."

"Look at the bright side, Peabody. In another ten to twenty years, they'll both be out of our hair."

Sherman turned back to see a look of deep hurt on Penny's face. They quietly walked back to his room.

Neither of them spoke for the remainder of the evening.


	3. Chapter 3

**Yes. This. Is. Done! I was about 700 words into it when my charger decided to stop working. I finally have a new one and have managed to get it done. Hope you enjoy it. :)**

* * *

Peabody's intention was to wake Sherman up early, feed him an extravagant breakfast filled with all kinds of sugary goodness, then take him to Anaheim, California, July 17, 1955 to meat the beloved Walt Disney at the opening of his theme park. His son had seemed so distraught the night before, after his encounters with their cantankerous neighbor downstairs.

"Sherman," he called gently as he opened the door to his son's room. "Sherman, it's time to get up."

The boy shifted under his blanket, but made no move to leave his bed.

"Come now, Sherman." The Beagle walked to his son's side, sat on the edge of the mattress, nudged his shoulder. "I know I usually let you sleep in on Sundays, but I'm sure you won't mind an early rise once you've seen when and where I'm taking you."

No response.

"What about breakfast?" He was beginning to worry. Surely Sherman wasn't _this_ upset over yesterday's events. "I'll make you whatever you want. Blueberry pancakes? French toast? I'll even give you ice cream and funnel cakes if you want."

Sherman grunted sleepily.

"Time waits for no man, Sherman," he said, tousling the child's hair. "Even with a WABAC."

Sherman pulled the blanket tighter over his head.

Peabody's eyes widened. "Sherman? Are you alright?" He tugged at the hem of the blanket, revealing a pair of swollen, brown eyes. "Sherman, whatever is the matter?"

"I'm just not feeling very good, Mr. Peabody."

Peabody's gaze softened. "Okay, Sherman." He patted the boy's shoulder. "If you need anything, let me know. I'll be in my office."

Sherman nodded and pulled the blanket over his head again.

Peabody rose, walked to the door. He considered what Sherman had told him as he slowly made his way into the kitchen for a quick bite of food. Being a father, he knew when his son was trying to hide something. Being a dog, he could sense that the boy's ailment was no mere cold. He was depressed over something. Of that much, Peabody was certain.

After snatching an apple off the counter and a jar of peanut butter from the pantry, the Beagle headed back to his office.

"What could possibly have upset Sherman so much?" he mumbled to himself. "Perhaps I was a bit harsh with him over the whole ring and run fiasco…" He shook his head. "No, no. He knew better than to do that. And this wasn't his first run-in with Mr. Sandlin."

Peabody pushed the door to his office open and walked to his desk. He jumped onto his chair and glared at the wall in deep thought. "What is going on with my boy?"

* * *

James Sandlin knew he was getting old. He just didn't care. His mind was too preoccupied to worry about his own aches and pains. He had plants to water, an apartment to keep clean, a cat to look after. He was a very busy man.

Once upon a time he hadn't been so grouchy as he was now. Yes, he knew he could be downright unpleasant at times. But really, if anyone had an excuse, it was James.

Kids thought running around the hallways and tripping old men was fun, but James knew from experience that they were wrong. The little punks had no idea what it was like to be a sixty-nine year old with arthritic knees and glass-like bones!

Well, maybe that was a stretch. But still, a fall for a kid may mean a scraped knee, but for a man like James, it could mean a few months in a cast with several large hospital bills.

Yes, he had too much on his plate to be concerned about the throbbing in his hips or the pinched nerve in his back.

Where did he put his aspirin?

James shuffled from his bedroom to the kitchen. He reached into a plastic container and dumped a handful of dried food into the cat's dish. The furball came bounding into the room and cheerfully munched at her breakfast. James allowed himself a smile.

"Well, at least you got somethin' ta be happy about." He bent down and pat the feline's head.

He grunted quietly, feeling his hips grind and pop as he straightened again.

Getting old wasn't something he had enjoyed. "No time to think about my aches and pains," he grumbled.

Turning back to the kitchen he began to go over a mental checklist for the morning medication. He counted out pills, placed them in a bowl and poured a cup of water.

A deep frown etched itself into his already drooping cheeks as he stared at the medication. He rubbed a hand over his balding head and sighed. He never thought he'd be battling this. He never considered it a possibility.

James picked up the bowl and glass and headed back to his bedroom.

The doctor said he needed to get rid of his bulging belly fat. It would really help out with his diabetes.

James scoffed at the idea. He didn't have time to think about his neuropathy or blurry vision.

He pushed the door open and watched as his wife of forty-nine years began to stir from her fitful sleep.

James was old and ailing, but he would gladly take her cancer if he could.

* * *

Peabody couldn't concentrate on his work. He was slightly embarrassed at how long it had taken him to formulate a type of ice cream that held the vitamins and minerals recommended for daily consumption without the damaging effects of refined sugars.

Three hours and forty-seven minutes spent on something so simple was unacceptable! Unfortunately, his mind was too far gone from his projects to speed things along. To his knowledge, Sherman had left his room only once to relieve himself. He simply could not figure out why his boy was acting so strange.

And why wouldn't Sherman discuss his despondency with him?

Peabody had looked for every opportunity to check in on Sherman without blatantly invading his space every five minutes. He had cooked enough food to feed a village—he was expecting a crew to arrive in an hour to take the meals to a local soup kitchen—washed all the windows, scrubbed the baseboards. He had even removed all the pictures from the walls to thoroughly cleanse the glass and frames.

He would get around to hanging them back up eventually.

Finally he had decided to return to his office. He stuck a spoon into the ice cream before him and licked at it absentmindedly.

He had taken Sherman's temperature, checked his vitals. Everything was normal. Peabody had even sniffed the boy over, furtively and from a distance of course, and found nothing physically wrong. He was considering calling in one of his child psychiatrist associates.

He wouldn't, however, since he was sure Sherman would come to him soon enough. He just had to give the boy a little more time.

Then again, what if by giving Sherman space Peabody was coming across as uncaring and callous?

He glanced at the clock. 3:26.

Would the day ever end?

* * *

"He came in to take my temperature once and he hasn't been back," whispered the boy into the phone. Sherman was sitting in his closet, door slightly ajar so as to see if his father entered the room again.

Penny was silent on the other end.

"I think he sniffed me, too."

That got a little bit of a giggle from his friend. He smiled sadly at the phone.

"My mom and dad had to work and the babysitter hasn't been in here that much." She sniffed once.

Sherman felt a lump rise in his throat. "Mr. Peabody took down all the picture of me. They're not back up yet. I guess he really doesn't want me anymore."

Penny tried to speak, but only managed to choke back a sob.

Sherman felt the tears welling in his eyes. He didn't want to lose Mr. Peabody, but he didn't want to make Mr. Peabody's life miserable either. "What do I do, Penny?"

"Sherman," Penny started, her tone bitter and determined. "If our parents think we're so bad, I say we give them what they want. Let's just leave."

"You mean run away?" Sherman said a little too loudly. He quickly lowered his voice back to a whisper. "Penny, we can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Well…" But Sherman really wasn't sure why not. He knew it was wrong, but if Mr. Peabody really didn't like having him around, maybe it was the best thing to do. Sherman loved his dad. He didn't want to leave him. But he wasn't so sure Mr. Peabody really loved him anymore.

He tried to reason with her, but in the end, he finally and reluctantly agreed.

Sometime after getting off the phone, Sherman scurried to get his backpack stuffed with shirts, pants, socks and underwear. He quietly emptied his piggy bank of all the money he had and made his way for the door.

Sherman peeked his head out of his room, surveying the hall for any sign of his father. When he heard the whir of a machine coming from Mr. Peabody's office, he knew his chances of being spotted had greatly diminished. He crept down the hall and to the elevator doors. A moment later, he was riding down to the ground floor.

He checked the time on a 17th century pocket watch Mr. Peabody had given him. 5:18. He wondered if Penny had left her house yet.

* * *

Peabody felt the fur on the back of his neck stand on end. He was sure something was wrong, but he had felt that away all day. He shook himself, took a breath. "Really, Peabody, you mustn't be so paranoid," he scolded himself. "What has gotten into you?"

For a moment, he thought he heard the ding of an elevator.

* * *

Half an hour after the hospice nurse came to the door, James Sandlin decided to go for a walk. He needed to clear his head. Relax.

He promised Cynthia when they got married that he wouldn't drink. But things had changed since she'd gotten sick. He was always responsible. He never got drunk. And Cynthia had all but lost her mind to the pain in her body.

She didn't even notice when he stumbled from his lightheadedness.

James walked from street to street, lost in his thoughts, numb to the world around him. Someone bumped him. He grunted.

He continued walking. Just walking. At some point he entered a bar, took a seat. Though in his mind he was still walking.

* * *

Peabody entered his kitchen at 5:43. His fought to keep himself relaxed. His fur still stood on end, but he ignored it. Sherman still hadn't left his room. He was far more concerned about his son's mental and emotional health now than he had been all day.

Something just wasn't right.

Peabody fiddled with his bowtie absentmindedly as he looked over the contents of his pantry. He thought Sherman might appreciate pizza tonight.

A whine crept out of his throat at the thought of his ginger headed boy. He slapped a hand over his mouth, shocked and somewhat embarrassed at the reaction.

Perhaps it wouldn't be beneficial to wait for Sherman to come to him. It might be best to try once more to get information out of the boy himself.

The phone rang.

Peabody answered in his usual, pleasant tone, though his entire body tensed, sensing something was dangerously amiss.

"Peabody! Is Penny there? Do you know where she is?"

"Calm down, Paul," the Beagle said attempting to keep a level head. He could feel another whine building in his throat. He coughed once to clear it. "What happened?"

"It's awful, Peabody! I called the police. Patty's driving up and down the streets!" The man was frantic. "Penny's gone, Peabody!"

A pause.

"Peabody?"

But Peabody wasn't there. As pieces began to fall into place, he had dropped the phone and bolted for his boy's room.

He stared at the bed, frozen, mind spinning.

The letters scrawled on the torn piece of paper broke him. His shoulders and head dropped. He felt his tail curling between his legs.

He didn't try to stop the whimpering that came.

"What have I done?" he choked.

* * *

**It's getting real, guys.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's another chapter! YAYYYYYY! Why does it take so long for me to write these? Well, so far I've had busy schedules, computer issues, stomach viruses and now a bad cold. I love this story, but it's really hating on me. Apparently it doesn't want me to feel good while writing it. BUT I SHALL CONQUER!**

* * *

Her heart was pounding. She bit the tip of her tongue to keep from crying. This was her worst nightmare coming true. Her baby was out on the streets of New York City with darkness closing in quickly. She rubbed her hands nervously, scanning the street for any sign of her daughter.

"What are we going to do, Paul?" she asked, voice weak.

Paul's knuckles where white from his death-grip on the steering wheel. His jaw was set, body tense.

Patty noticed he was driving nearly fifteen miles too fast. She turned her attention back to the road.

"Where could Penny have gone?" A tear slipped down her cheek. "I'm scared, Paul. What's going to happen to her?"

Paul slapped the steering wheel as he came to a stop at a red light. "Nothing! Nothing is going to happen to her, Patty! You know why? Because we're going to find her and take her home before anything can happen!" He huffed and hit the gas hard when the light changed back to green.

Patty rubbed her hands together again. She watched the scenery pass, mind lost, until they arrived at the police station.

Patty knew she was stepping out of the car. She knew she was walking to the door. She knew she was inside, that Paul was talking. But her thoughts were not in the moment. Fear had crept into every crevice of her mind; images of every horribly gruesome possibility of an outcome filled her with terror. All she wanted was to find her baby girl, wrap Penny in her arms and hold her close.

"Patty?"

She blinked, looked up at her husband. "I'm scared," she whispered.

A heavy built police officer looked at her coldly. "We're doing what we can, Mrs. Peterson. We just-"

"Doing what you can?!" Paul yelled. "My little girl might have been kidnapped and all you've done is stand there acting like-"

"Paul!" Patty cried, grabbing his arm and pulling him back. The last thing they needed was to be on the NYPD's bad side.

The officer stared hard at the man for a few seconds before turning back to Mrs. Peterson. He offered her a small, forced smile and then looked passed her to the door. His eyes widened slightly as he watched the visitor approached.

"Paul. Patty," came the familiar voice. "I'm so glad you're here. Have you found anything?"

Paul shot a glare at the officer. "I'm sure we could have tracked down the kidnappers by now if some people would lay off the coffee and doughnuts for a while and _do their_ _jobs_!"

Peabody chuckled nervously at the venomous scowl his friend received. "Now, Paul," he began, trying to calm things down, "I'm sure our dedicated law enforcers are doing all they can to track down our missing adolescents. These things do take time, after all." That seemed to alleviate his anger. "Besides, I have reason to believe that Penny was not abducted, but in fact," he paused to swallow the lump in his throat, "joined Sherman in his departure."

"What are you saying, Peabody?" Patty asked in a whisper, digging her fingernails into her palm in anxiety.

The officer stepped forward. "You think the kids ran away?"

Peabody looked into the man's grey-green eyes. He could sense, passed the stone-cold and uncaring façade, the man did indeed worry for the two seven year olds out of the street.

The Beagle offered him the note.

"What does it say?" Paul demanded.

The officer stared at it for a moment. Read it aloud.

_I'm really sorry I messed up again, Mr. Peabody. I heard you talking about how you didn't want me around anymore, so I decided to leave. I hope you have a really fantastic life. I love you._

_Sherman._

"What does he mean he heard you talking about how you don't want him?" asked the officer.

Peabody sighed. "He must have overheard me speaking of my nuisance of a neighbor." His brows furrowed in anger. "Seven years of teaching Sherman not to vilify and I am the first to regress in my moral development! I should have been more careful with my reactions." His shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Oh, Paul! You don't think Penny heard us talking to Peabody about your aunt yesterday, do you?"

Mr. Peterson turned and slammed a fist on the nearest desk causing several policemen to jump to attention, ready to restrain the outraged man if need be.

His back rose and fell with every deep breath as he tried to gain control. When Paul finally turned back to his wife and friend, he looked grievously lost. "What did we do, Patty?" His voice cracked and his face contorted in terror. "What did we do?"

* * *

"I'm hungry," Penny said, rubbing her stomach. "We should get something to eat."

Sherman nodded. "Where do you want to go?"

"I don't know. Somewhere cheap, I guess. We have to save our money." She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "How much money do we have anyway?"

"I have twenty-three dollars and forty-eight cents. Mr. Peabody put all the rest of my money in the bank."

She nodded back. "I have eighteen dollars left from my birthday. "

For the next several minutes they walked in silence, blending with the crowd, unsure of their destination. The sun was going down fast and streetlights were beginning to turn on.

Sherman was the first to break the silence. "There's a store up ahead. Maybe we can stop there to get some food and figure out where we're going. It's getting dark and Mr. Peabody says it's not safe for impressionable progenies to be out at night without adult supervision."

Penny was silent for a moment. "What's a progeny?"

Sherman shrugged. "I don't know. I don't always understand what Mr. Peabody is talking about."

They walked into a convenience store with a small café. There were three other people there. An elderly woman picking up some cat food, a short brunette with a tattoo of a dragon crawling up her leg, and the teenager behind the cash register who's glazed over expression, purple hair and multitude of facial piercings were somewhat threatening to the already nervous children.

Penny strode up and down the isles of snack foods with Sherman on her heels, constantly glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was about to try to grab them.

Penny grabbed a bag of chips while Sherman reached for a Nature's Valley Granola Bar. Even now he couldn't bring himself to deviate too far from his father's rules about eating the right foods. They paid for their snacks and sat at one of the café's tables.

"So where do we go?" Sherman asked, ripping open the packaging of the bar and taking a bite.

"I don't know. Maybe we can find a church to sleep in or something."

"Do churches let you do that?"

Silence fell as the kids slowly munched at their purchases. Once finished, they simply sat. Neither speaking. Neither paying any attention to the world around them or to how long they were there.

"Hey, little people," said the cashier taking a seat at the table with them. All the other customers were gone, leaving the three of them alone with each other. The purple haired teen pulled a Snickers out of his pocket and tore the packaging off. "Not trying to knock your freedom or anything," he took a bite, "but shouldn't you be with your parents or whatever? It's pretty dark out."

Penny blinked out of her trance, crossed her arms over her chest. "What do you care?"

The teen held up his hands in surrender. "Easy, kid. I'm not here to judge." He smiled at Sherman. "So, where you going?"

Sherman looked between the purple haired stranger and his friend. "Um, we're trying to find a train," he lied. "We just stopped for snacks."

The stranger smirked at him. "A train, huh?" He clearly wasn't buying it.

Penny shot him a glare. "It's none of your business."

The teen shrugged. "Whatever. Forget I asked. Name's Zeke, by the way. Who are you two?"

"Sherman," answered the red head. "And this is Penny."

"Okay, Sherman and Penny, my shift is almost over. How about I walk with you to wherever you're going?"

It was Penny's turn to shrug. "Sure, I guess. Just don't try to trick us or anything."

Zeke laughed. "Not a chance, kid."

Thirty minutes later they had left the café and made their way to the subway station. "Well, there you go, red," said Zeke. "Found you a train."

Sherman glanced at Penny, unsure of how to respond.

She smiled at Zeke and walked over to a machine to buy a metro card.

Sherman was quick to follow.

* * *

James pushed himself up off his seat with a sigh. His head hurt from the noise and the smell of cigarette smoke. He hobbled out the door, feeling his hips and knees pop and grind with each step. How long had he been sitting in there?

A police car whooshed past him on the road. "Probably some punk messin' around with things they shouldn't," he mumbled bitterly. Why were people so stupid? Why couldn't they see how fragile and short life really was?

Why had it taken the news of his wife's terminal cancer to open his eyes to that very fact?

But it was too late for James. He had missed out on some of the best years of his life.

His son had grown to hate him for never being around and then had been killed in a head-on collision. Now his wife was slipping farther and farther away with each moment.

He was forced to watch her die. Slowly. Painfully.

Some people said he should put her in a home. That it would help him accept her fate. He hadn't talked to those people ever since.

James' ears were ringing. He stopped walking, took a deep breath, let it out slowly. He felt light headed. Maybe he shouldn't walk home after all. He could call a cab, or take the subway.

He reached into his pocket, fumbled through the contents. "There you are," he said, pulling the metro card out.

He started walking again. Maybe he would find an empty train car and just ride around for a while.

That would be nice.

* * *

**Alrighty then, people. This story is getting close to its end. Let's see if I can get the next chapter done soon or if I'll end up with a broken hand in the next few weeks...**


	5. Chapter 5

**Wow! I am sooooo sorry it took so long for me to get this done! My life has been hectic, fast paced and random for the last few weeks. I finally found a chance to sit down and write! SO HERE IT IS! The next to last chapter of the story. Hope you like it!**

* * *

Dizziness washed over him as all the stresses of the day began to coalesce into one fell swoop of exhaustion.

He paced back and forth outside the apartment building, attempting to keep himself awake.

"Come on. Where are you?" he mumbled, stifling a whine. His ears perked up at the sound of a cab pulling to the curb behind him. He spun around and watched as a pierced, purple haired teenager stepped out of the car.

The kid eyed him warily. "Um, hi doggy."

"Do not call me 'doggy,'" Peabody corrected.

The youth's eyes widened slightly at his response. "Sorry?" He stepped past the Beagle and headed up the steps to the front door.

Peabody caught a whiff of his scent and immediately knew he had found the right person. He jumped in front of the teen, cleared his throat. "Pardon my manors or lack thereof. My name is Peabody. Mr. Peabody. I believe you might have acquired some information as to the whereabouts of my son, Sherman. If I am correct, which I most certainly am given the fact that his scent is wafting off of you like ocean's tide, then I implore you to share your knowledge with me that I might be reunited with my disappeared progeny."

The young man stared blankly at him.

Peabody sighed. "Sherman. Red hair. Black glassed. White shirt. Do you know where he is?"

The boy's eyes widened with realization. "Oh! Him! Yeah, last I saw him was at the subway."

"You let a seven year old get on a subway alone?" Peabody yelled, eyes widening in horror.

"He was with a friend."

Peabody visualized himself strangling the teen. "Young man, if I find that you were under the influence of any sort of hallucinogen while accompanying my son to a metro station—a completely absurd notion, I might add—I will personally see to your immediate arrest!"

The teen looked around nervously. "Um… I'm gonna go inside now."

* * *

Sherman's head bounced up and down as he fought to stay awake. He had no idea how long they had been riding around in the train car, but he knew it was way past his bedtime. He yawned, blinked twice, looked over at the sleeping girl beside him.

Maybe he could just close his eyes for a minute or two.

"Kid. Hey, kid."

Sherman opened his eyes lazily. "Huh?"

"Get up, kid," said the gruff voice.

Sherman rubbed his eyes and looked up at the man in front of him. "What time is it?"

"Four in the morning."

Penny stirred in her seat. "What's going on?" She looked up at the man. "Who are you?"

The stranger backed away from them, waited for their sleepy eyes to adjust to the world around them.

Penny gasped!

"Mr. Sandlin?" Sherman asked.

James nodded. "You wanna tell me why you're sleeping on a subway at 4am without your parent around?"

Sherman looked away. He felt bad for leaving Mr. Peabody. What if he was really, really worried?

"None of your business," Penny said, curtly.

James rolled his eyes and shrugged. "Whatever, kid."

"Mr. Peabody doesn't want me anymore."

The older man blinked. "Hm."

Sherman looked back up at him, silently pleading for disagreement. He received none.

Penny could see the hurt in her friend's eyes and decided to change the subject. "Why are you here at four? Did you need to go find someone else to make miserable?"

Mr. Sandlin shot her a stern look. "That's none of your business, brat." He looked back to the red head. "So, you're a runaway now."

The boy nodded.

"I tried that back when I was a kid." He sat down across from them, leaning his head back tiredly. "Learned that life is jacked up. When you try to get away from your problems, they hunt you down like a pack of hungry wolves. Might as well just accept your lot in life and stay where you are."

"Is that why you're so mean?" asked the blonde.

James closed his eyes, took a deep breath, looked back at the kids. "No, kid. I'm a jerk because I never quit running."

* * *

Paul paced back and forth, sweat beading on his forehead. He glanced at the clock on the far wall. 4:26am. It had been nearly twelve hours since Penny had gone missing. So far the only tip they had received was from a crack-head teenager who had taken his daughter to a subway station and just left her there!

The police assured him that they were doing all they could to locate the children, but Paul was having none of it. He should be out looking for Penny himself!

"Paul!" Patty cam running into the room with a phone pressed against her ear. "It's Peabody. He says he found out which train the kids got on."

Paul snatched the phone from his wife. "Peabody! Hello? Where are they? What did you find? Can you see them? Hello? Peabody!"

"Calm down, Paul."

"Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down?" he shouted. "My daughter is out on the street somewhere in the middle of the night! Anything could happen to her! Anything!"

Patty gasped! She ran out of the room just as tears began to flow from her eyes.

"Patty!" Paul called. "It's okay, Patty! We'll find her!"

* * *

Sherman shifted on his seat uncomfortably. He wasn't sure if Mr. Sandlin was asleep or just resting his eyes again. It had been a few minutes since anyone had spoken. He looked at Penny, who was once again fighting the urge to sleep, and pointed toward the old man questioningly.

The blonde shrugged.

"Mr. Sandlin?" Sherman whispered.

James took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes. "You still here?"

Penny's stomach growled.

James looked at her blankly. "When's the last time you ate?"

Penny shrugged again. "I ate some chips at, like, eight."

The old man rolled his eyes. He stood and motioned for the kids to follow. "There's an all night pizza joint at the next stop."

Sherman and Penny jumped to their feet and exited the car with Mr. Sandlin. They stood back a few feet as they followed him up the steps and out to the street, glancing at each other warily.

A cold breeze lifted Penny's hair off her shoulders. She shivered, wrapping her arms around her body. "How much farther, Mr. Sandlin? It's cold out here."

James grunted in response.

Silence fell over them as they trekked down the street, turning left, then right, then left again. Finally they saw the neon sign shining in the window of an old pizza parlor. Sherman and Penny looked at each other, smiling excitedly.

James pulled the door open and pushed the children inside. "Sit there," he said, pointing at a booth.

Penny and Sherman obeyed.

A few minutes of awkward silence later, they were all sitting and waiting for their pizza.

Sherman noticed a few police cars drive in the direction they had just come from and wondered if they had just missed something down in the subway.

He shook the thought from his mind and turned his attention back to the pizza parlor. The walls were brick, the floor old wood and the cushions on his seat were torn and faded. But the sweet aroma of baking bread, freshly seasoned meat and homemade tomato sauce filled the small space with a comforting warmth. He smiled to himself.

"So," Mr. Sandlin said gruffly, breaking the silence. "That dog really say he didn't want you anymore?"

Sherman nodded sadly.

The man leaned back, watching him skeptically. "He said that to your face?"

"Well… No."

"So you overheard him say he didn't want you."

Sherman nodded again.

Mr. Sandlin nodded back. "And he used your name? He said, 'I don't want Sherman anymore'?"

Penny glared at the old man. "Leave him alone! We both heard our parents talking about how they don't want us. And it's all your fault!"

Mr. Sandlin smirked. "Oh, really? How's that?"

"If it weren't for you and your stupid cat, Sherman wouldn't have gotten in trouble."

James cleared his throat in an attempt to stop his laugh. "So, him being in trouble means your parents don't want you?"

Sherman and Penny looked at each other.

"Well," Penny started. "No…"

"Look kid," said the man as he leaned in closer to them from his side of the booth. "It seems to me that you've had a misunderstanding."

Sherman blinked. "But you said that all I do is mess up Mr. Peabody's life."

James shrugged. "I'm a grouchy old man. I say mean things. Get over it."

* * *

Peabody's nose twitched as he bounded out of the train car. Sherman had been on it within the past hour, he knew that for sure, but he was having trouble deciding at which point his boy had exited the car.

He looked around frantically, taking a whiff of the air. Nothing.

He turned and quickly hopped back on board.

He would repeat the process at ever stop if he had to until he found his son.

If only he hadn't been talking to himself. If only he had taken his own advise and not spoken ill of his neighbor in the sanctity of his home. If only he had have pried a bit more at Sherman and extracted the true motive behind his sudden collapse of euphoria.

"How could you run from me, Sherman?" he mumbled to himself. "After all that we've been through, how could you possibly doubt my want for you?"

He slumped into the seat that held his boy's scent and waited.

"I will find you, Sherman. I will always find you."

* * *

"So how did you even know about this place?" Penny asked, taking another bite of her pizza. Mr. Sandlin had ordered it with mushrooms and insisted they eat it without complaining or starve. She had been happy to find that she actually liked the way they tasted.

"Been coming here for years, kid." He pointed at a small table across the room. "Took my wife here on our first date and sat at that table."

Penny grinned. "You have a wife?"

"Yep."

"How come I never see her?" Sherman asked.

Mr. Sandlin frowned. "She's sick, kid. Real sick."

A pause.

"So, you got enough money to get you where you're going?"

Sherman blinked. "You mean you're not taking us back home?"

He shrugged, finishing another slice of pizza. "Nah." He glanced out the window, pushed himself up and out of the booth. "It ain't my business where you go." He put some cash on the table and started walking toward the door. "Just remember that once you start running, you can't stop."

And with that he was gone.

Sherman looked at Penny, then the cash, then back to Penny. "I think we should go back."

She nodded slowly. "Maybe we did misunderstand."

They sat in silence for another minute, just looking at the money.

"Penny?"

"Yes, Sherman?"

"I don't think Mr. Sandlin is as mean as I thought he was."

She offered him a smile. "He's the nicest mean man I've ever met."

Sherman laughed at that. "Come on," he said, picking up the cash. "Let's go back home."

The kids slide out of the booth and walked for the door. They stepped out into the cool air and froze.

"Sherman, is that-"

"Mr. Peabody!" the boy yelled excitedly. "Mr. Peabody, you found me!"

The Beagle bolted to his son, wrapped his arms around him and held him tight. "Sherman, I am sorry. I am so sorry. I wasn't talking about you, I promise. I love you, Sherman, and I would never wish you away."

Sherman hugged his father back, tears beginning to fall down his face. "I'm never running away again, Mr. Peabody!"

Peabody pulled away just slightly and opened the hug for Penny to join. "Your parents love you, Penny. They have been worried sick about you all night."

She stepped into the hug, smiling brightly. "Mr. Peabody? Will you take me home, please?"

Peabody beamed at the children. "Yes, Penny. I will take you home. I'll take you both home."


	6. Chapter 6

James opened his eyes and groaned. Who would be knocking at his door at, he checked his watch, 10:45am… Okay, so that wasn't a strange thing. "This is what you get for staying out all night." He pushed himself out of his chair, feeling his back and hips pop and creak, and hobbled to the door.

"Who's there?" he asked gruffly.

No answer.

"Maybe I imagined it."

Walking back into the kitchen he began preparing his wife's breakfast. "Maybe I should drink some coffee today," he mumbled through a yawn.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

James sighed. "Coffee'll have to wait, Jimmy boy."

Once more he walked to the door and asked who was out there. Again, there was no answer. He growled and walked back into the kitchen.

After placing a new coffee filter in the pot, he opened up a cabinet to pull out the coffee beans and… "Now where did I put the grinder?"

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

"Oh, for the love of- What do you want?!" He stomped back to the door and yanked it open.

He looked up and down the hall, but could find no sign of another person. Then he looked down.

There, on the floor, was a small wad of cash wrapped in a rubber band with a note sticking out. He bent over and snatched it up.

_Thanks for the pizza, Mr. Sandlin. If you ever want to get pizza with someone again, I'll be happy to go with you. I decided I didn't want to runaway after all. And, Mr. Sandlin, you don't have to runaway either._

_-Sherman_

James stepped back into his apartment, shutting the door behind him. He smiled. "Good job, kid. Good job."

END


End file.
